


Every Day

by Daughter_of_the_Black



Category: The Red Road
Genre: F/M, Phate
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-04-21
Updated: 2016-07-10
Packaged: 2018-03-25 01:49:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,747
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3792088
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Daughter_of_the_Black/pseuds/Daughter_of_the_Black
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It had all started a year ago, and Phillip Kopus hadn't had a day of rest since. Every day he missed her, every day he dealt with the pain of separation. He knew it was wrong, but logic had never won out over instinct with Phillip. [Phillip Kopus x Kate Jensen] [Phate]</p>
<p>The road Kate and Phillip embark upon as they fall in love.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. One

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own  _The Red Road_. (Dialogue taken from 1x06)
> 
> A/N: This is semi-AU of S2 (mostly because only one episode has aired) Phillip did not cause trouble with the guys at the paving company, and Mac has not been murdered.

* * *

The low rumble of a truck engine exhaled into the summer air, silencing the chirping crickets and the muffled noises from the houses along the street. As sudden as the quiet of the natural noises of the suburban streets settled it disappeared, the purr of the engine cutting. Metal creaked quietly as it cooled in the evening chill.

Dark eyes watched the street closely, flickering rapidly from house to house, noting the soft movements of trees and the waking of nocturnal creatures. A deep sigh filled the cab as the man shifted heavily, angling his body towards one particular house. The front yard was flooded with creamy yellow light, illuminating the neatly manicured beds of flowers and the empty driveway. Another heavy breath was expelled as the man searched the light filled frames, waiting for a silhouette to appear.

His body was tight, every muscle coiled tightly, ready to flee. He wasn't supposed to be on this street. His parole officer would probably have more than a few choice words to say to him, if the guy every bothered to check the tracking device.

_But_  Phillip Kopus wasn't a man driven by logic, he was a man driven by instinct and passion. That simple fact was probably what had landed him in so much trouble as well as how he had managed to escape so much of it. Phillip had spent more than his share of time locked up, thinking about the funny way the world seemed to turn. While he wasn't a particularly philosophical man, Phillip was starting to believe that there was something more to life than randomness. That was why he sat outside The Jensen house in his beat-up truck, watching for any flicker of life inside.

Long fingers clenched against the steering wheel, muscles corded sharply, rolling underneath taut, tan skin. Phillip was caught in a crisis of indecision. He knew he should turn the engine over and speed away, put as much space between himself and that damn house as he could, but he was frozen. Phillip had spent a year in prison, dwelling on lost time and lost chances.

It had all started a year ago.

It had all started in that house.

It had all started when Phillip Kopus had made up his mind to show Harold Jensen exactly who he had messed with. Phillip had wanted to frighten the man, demonstrate who the predator was and who the prey was in their little game. That wasn't how it ended.

Toes curled in scuffed boots as the bear of a man thought back to the sunny afternoon that changed the road he had been travelling down.

* * *

It hadn't been hard to find the hide-a-key, Phillip rolled his eyes. He couldn't believe  _Harold_  had trumped him even a little. The guy was a damn cop and he had a hide-a-key rock sitting next to his front door. The man was a moron. He was practically inviting trouble into his home, trouble being a dark-haired, surly man named Phillip Kopus.

The door swung open easily and Phillip stepped into the hall, he paused as he closed the door, eyes scanning the street, ears pricked to catch any noise within the house. Everything was still. Flicking the latch, Kopus turned to survey the house. It was neat, clean, it looked too sterile. There was no clutter to warm the place, it felt staged. A façade of the perfect family. Phillip supposed that was apt, Harold and Jean had the perfect lives on the surface. They were happily married, owned a house in the suburbs, and had two kids. All that was missing was the damn dog and picket fence.

Reality wasn't so sweet a picture. Jean wasn't well, Harold was hardly the perfect father, cop, or husband, and Rachel wasn't exactly a girl of substance, unless you counted the substances in her blood. The house was cold.

On silent feet Phillip moved through the house, fingers dragging along the walls, lips curling upward in a little smirk as he took in the decorations. It was like a page from a magazine. He kept moving, careful not to disturb anything too much. He stepped into the kitchen, the cramped space making him feel bigger than he was.

Dark eyes skated across the space, this space was less sterile. It looked lived in, there were papers tacked to the fridge, a folder lay forgotten on the counter, and a pile of mail was scattered on the table. Scarred eyebrow flicking up in interest, Phillip glanced around before stepping towards the table. He scanned the mail, one finger extended to maneuver the envelopes and magazines around. Bills, bills, a useless coupon, and a letter from the town high school, nothing out of the ordinary. Turning to the fridge, Phillip frowned. Expired pizza coupons stacked under magnets for air-conditioning guys, grocery lists in a half-legible script, and, most interestingly, a pencil sketch of the mountain. It was nothing spectacular, but it didn't fit with the artificial feel of the house.

Leaning closer, Phillip squinted at the half sheet of paper. The strokes of the painting were soft, giving the scene a hazy, dream-like quality. There was little detail in the drawing, not from lack of talent Phillip decided. The drawing was unmistakably the mountain, every curve and angle accurate. The bottom corner of the page had a stark "K" as a signature. The lines weren't crisp, like the rest of the drawing it was hazy, multiple pencil strokes overlaying each other.

"K" had to be the other daughter. The one Phillip hadn't heard anything about. Straightening as he threaded his fingers through his hair, Phillip turned to the counter and slid the manila folder off the counter. Deft fingers flipped open the crisp, heavy paper. A stack of documents in various sizes, colors, and shapes threatened to spill onto the floor. Shifting his grip, Phillip braced the folder against his stomach as he thumbed through the documents.

_Kate_ , the name popped off the page. Katherine Elizabeth Jensen, "K". Report cards, letters of recommendation, standardized test scores, ACT, SAT, and AP test information filled the folder. All of it painted a singular picture. Phillip knew with every centimeter of his flesh that these did not belong to the dumb, drunk, girl that Junior was in love with, and he didn't need a name to know it. These belonged to a girl who was smart and sweet. They belonged to a girl who saw beauty in the world.

Shaking himself from blindly reading the pages, Phillip set the file back down to finish surveying the room. He had something to accomplish, and Phillip had always been a very determined sort. If he set out to do something, he didn't let things get in his way.

Phillip Kopus had entered the Jensen house with a plan. He was going to send a message to Harold, so Phillip settled onto a dining room chair, fingertips pressed against the dark wooden table. With all the focus and patience of a hunter, Phillip waited, the long shadows of the afternoon cloaking him.

* * *

It had all started a year ago.

It had all started with a plan.

It had ended very differently.

That afternoon had been the start of the end, and the end of the start.

Phillip had spent an entire year letting the events crystallize in his memory. And in the end, it all came down to that afternoon. The afternoon he met Kate Jensen, the afternoon he goaded Harold into beating him half to hell, the afternoon the Albanians had caught him, the afternoon that Harold had, for an unknowable reason, saved him, and Phillip had returned the favor.

A year ago Phillip and Harold had sat slumped against the tuck, bloody and exhausted, and the world seemed to fade away. The euphoria of survival hadn't lasted long, and soon enough Phillip had found himself back in a prison cell with little else but his memories.

* * *

Long fingers tented against the overly-smooth wood table, Phillip's left hand clenched against his knee as a car door slammed. Exhaling slowly, Phillip gritted his teeth. It wasn't Harold. That left three options. It wasn't Jean. She would have opened the garage door just like Harold would have. That left the daughters.

Phillip's instincts warred. He had time to sneak out, it would be his best choice, but something kept him rooted in the chair long enough for the front lock to pop and the door to swing open. Steeling himself, Phillip forced his breathing to become shallow and his body to still all unnecessary movement.

The footsteps were light, even but gentle. As they moved closer, the hair on the back of Phillip's neck and on his arms rose slightly. Anticipation gnawing at him just as it did when he went hunting.

She swung into the kitchen in smooth movements, her backpack sliding down her arm as she lifted it to drop on the table. Her keys and jacket followed her backpack, the warm glow of afternoon sun lighting up her face.

Phillip's fingers flexed against the table as she turned, her curly red, sun-streaked hair drifting around her shoulders. She turned on her heal, body twisting easily, the curves and planes of her body shifting fluidly. She bounced down half of the steps into the den before freezing, her whole body seizing like a deer in the headlights. Phillip was similarly frozen, his lungs refusing to inhale properly.

She turned hesitantly, but didn't scream in fear as her eyes lit on him. A warm feeling swelled in his throat as she gave a gasping cry and backed down the stairs in shock. Pride, Phillip identified the feeling as she sat up in the chair, eyes locked on the Jensen he had yet to meet.

"It's okay," he forced his voice to be gentle and soft, not wanting to scare her anymore than he already had, "I'm a…I'm a friend of your Dad's."

Phillip watched as Kate angled her body slightly away from him, her hair hanging in her face, she was like a skittish animal, ready to bolt. A soft pink tongue darted out to whet full pink lips.

"My Dad doesn't have any friends," her voice was shaken, her breathing ragged.

Phillip watched Kate, absorbing every bit of information he could gather, eyes tracing every inch of her. He exhaled sharply through his nose, an ironic smile on his face, silent laughter flickering in his eyes. Pushing himself up from the chair, Phillip watched her as he stepped forward.

Kate stepped back, "He'll be home soon." It was a warning, empty, they both knew it.

"Oh good, wish he'd hurry up though," Phillip moved to stand in front of the fridge, taking his eyes from the young woman, hoping to calm her a little. "Got a busy day," Phillip tried to keep his voice conversational, tried to keep himself under control.

It was difficult for Phillip to ignore his instincts. Instincts that were roaring at him to keep his eyes on her, to watch Kate, to wrap his fingers in her hair and to figure out what she smelled like, what noises would issue from her throat if he brushed his lips against her pulse.

"Is he a nice dad," Phillip questioned, glancing at her as he tried to keep his body language as relaxed as possible. Desperate for something to keep his hands busy, Phillip opened the fridge glanced at the bare innards before closing it. His attention drawn again to the drawing pinned to the fridge. Sliding it off the fridge, Phillip forced himself to ignore the panicked breathing of the girl mere feet from him. He wanted to stroke her hair and tell her everything would be okay, but he couldn't, that would only scare her more.

"Did you draw this," he asked, voice heavy with suppressed emotion as he tipped the drawing so Kate could see. He watched her out of the corner of his vision. Kate nodded stiffly. Phillip held the drawing with both hands as he turned towards her, lifting his head as he walked closer. "He ever take you up there?"

Phillip didn't need a response to know that Harold would never take her into the mountains. Lip curled in an indistinguishable smirk, Phillip shook his head, "Keeps you all locked up here in this place, huh?"

Kate took a blind step back as the large man advanced. "You his favorite," his voice was a dark rumble, his eyes piercing into her, all of his attention on her as though she was the only thing in existence. "I bet he wishes he could keep you little forever."

The crisp sound of skin on paper filled the air, drawing Kate's attention to Phillip's large hands playing against her drawing.

The panic that had kept her frozen began to abate, "No." Her answer was still a little shaky, and a little quick, but it wasn't meek.

"Hm," it was a noise caught at the back of his throat as he walked down the stairs towards her, his heavy boots thunking loudly against the wood. He sighed heavily as he sank into a sitting position on the steps. A placid smile crept across his face, half sympathetic and half curious.

"You're the smart one, I can tell by looking at you," Phillip told her, watching as her breathing began to even, though her eyes were still wide and her lips remained parted. "Probably the only one who can see the forest for the trees."

The smile deepened, turning almost wry in nature as Phillip angled his head, looking up at her. He set his hands together, fingertips tenting before tipping to point passively at Kate. The warmth swelled again in his throat as Kate, still looking distinctly uncomfortable, met his eyes. Her hands were linked behind her back, pulling her shoulders back, her chest up, and forcing her to pick her head up a little, though a curtain of her hair still shielded her face from view.

Phillip clenched his jaw momentarily before relaxing, "Does he ever ask you what you think?"

"All the time," her voice even and mouth set firmly, Kate tipped her head to look at the intruder more directly.

Phillip swallowed at the answer. He could hear the lie in her words. The denial, the love, the blind love. His eyes shifted, catching the curve of Kate's hip beneath her shirt. "You keep taking shit, people are going to keep giving it to you," Phillip found her eyes again, "take it from me," he fell silent, watching her closely.

Kate kept her eyes on him, watching him just as he watched her. Phillip pulled away first, one hand delving into his pocket to retrieve his pocket watch, almost a quarter after three. Sliding the pocket watch home, Phillip returned his gaze to Kate. He rubbed his hands together in a show of nervous patience before folding them and settling them against this mouth. Eyes focused on her. Staring.

* * *

The haze in Phillip's eyes was replaced by pure focus in a snap as the subtle movement of a curtain drifting in the breeze caught in his peripheral vision. A lithe figure drifted in front of the window, shielded by the gauzy material. But Phillip  _knew_ it was her,  _Kate_.

Phillip knew his thoughts should not have been so captivated by her, but a year had done nothing to temper the strength of his feelings. Phillip had spent a year fighting his instincts, resorting to logic to put her from his thoughts. She was too young, she was the daughter of two people who had betrayed him and ruined his life. She was too good. Too gentle.

None of the reasons worked, Phillip couldn't deny the truth that had settled into his bones like marrow and given him strength and hope. He knew he shouldn't, and yet he did. Phillip was irrevocably, irreversibly in love with Kate Jensen.


	2. Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own The Red Road.  
> A/N: This is semi-AU of S2 (mostly because only one episode has aired) Phillip did not cause trouble with the guys at the paving company, and Mac has not been murdered.

            Shifting in his boots, Phillip Kopus glanced around the gas station, one hand holding the pump-handle tightly.  It was a sunny day, everyone in town seemed to be out and about, filling up their tanks for a weekend of off-roading or camping.  Phillip was _not_ preparing for a weekend trip.  In fact, Phillip shouldn’t have even needed to fill up his tank.  _But_ , Phillip had done a little more driving than usual in the last several days. 

            Despite a firm mantra that he was _not_ obsessed with Kate Jensen, Phillip had driven past her home twice a day on average.  Sometimes more if he could rationalize a reason why it would be faster to pass by the house.  Even if he _knew_ Kate wouldn’t be home, he still went past the house. 

            The pump clicked lowly as the tank finished filling.  Brows drawn together in a concentrated effort to keep his behavior normal, Phillip lifted the nozzle from the tank, tapping it lightly to flick off the last drops of gasoline before he replaced the handle.  The rest of the routine fading from conscious effort and into muscle memory as Phillip saw a flash of red hair across the lot. 

It wasn’t Kate, the voice was too loud, the red too artificial.  It was one of the numerous tourists who flooded the town every year, who flooded the mountain.  One upside to this years’ influx, it would be the last.  In a few days the Mountain would be closed permanently to anyone who wasn’t Lenape, one benefit to the Federal Recognition the tribe had sought for decades finally being granted.

Sliding into the truck, letting his weight settle, Phillip jammed the key into the ignition, twisting it roughly.  The engine grumbled to a start, even as the tall, dark, Indian man shoved it into gear and set his boot on the gas pedal.  The sputtering sound of the engine filled the station for a brief moment before Phillip escaped onto the road, heading for the center of the town.

It was near to the end of the school day, and if the man timed it right, he might be able to catch a glimpse of her.  Phillip reached forward and switched the radio on simply to fill the silence in the cab, and perhaps drown out the small voice in his head that kept telling him to go home.  Thighs clenching as he inhaled and straightened the wheel, Phillip knew that he was a man possessed.

A dry snort drowned in the thunderous music, it wasn’t new information of course.  Phillip had realized his situation at, quite possibly, the most inopportune moment of his life.  The moment where he could have easily let all of his problems solve themselves.  But no, Phillip had swayed in his spot as he watched the Albanian advance on Harold, and Kate’s face had flickered before his eyes.  And, somehow, instead of watching Harold die and then taking down the last Albanian, Phillip had staggered across the pavement and snapped the man’s neck, saving Harold’s. 

“Fuck,” the low curse slammed against Phillip’s teeth as he thought about Kate’s vivid green eyes filling with tears.  That was what had spurred him into action.  It shouldn’t have.  But it had.

Steering the truck towards the semi-crowded street across from the high school, Phillip tried to blend in.  A feat that was by no means easy, considering Phillip was well over six feet of muscle and didn’t exactly fit the suburban big-brother or father role.  Shoving himself backwards into his seat, Phillip twisted so he could see the school, but it wouldn’t be apparent he was looking.

A very different sort of anticipation built in Phillip’s gut, he was familiar with the slight burning and twisting sensation he associated with entering a potentially dangerous situation.  The pressing, fluttering, almost hollow sensation was something very different.  It left Phillip feeling shaky, like a starved man.  When the bell rang, and the sluggish flow of teens exiting the building began, Phillip’s eyes narrowed as he kept himself rigidly in place.

Despite the odds of spotting one girl in a population of hundreds, Phillip wasn’t deterred.  Phillip had been dealt poor odds his entire life, he had persevered through everything, why should this be any different. 

Hazel eyes darkened infinitesimally, as a sharp, familiar laugh rang out.  Junior’s little girlfriend, and if Phillip had any shade of luck, Kate would be close by.  Inhaling as he began to scan the teens more closely, the cool air only seemed to feed the empty feeling in his gut.  Swallowing down the heavy fluttering, his pulse thrumming in his stomach angrily, Phillip squinted against the bright light.  And then she was there.

She appeared like the sun through the drifting students, hair brilliant and free, face passive as she trailed behind Rachel and a group of students.  Kate twisted to glance around, eyes skimming her surroundings but not stopping, as her eyes passed over him, the empty feeling erupted into a flash fire that left Phillip breathless.  In a split-second she had disappeared into the SUV, leaving Phillip just feeling empty, alone.

* * *

Lying on the dingy mattress, staring up at the canopy of trees and sky that peeked through the hole in the roof, Phillip breathed deeply.  The air was stale, but the run-down house was better than anywhere Phillip had stayed in years.  He had his own space, even though it was filled with seriously creepy dolls that Phillip had quickly burned, despite a lovely visit from Harold.  This time, Phillip had refrained from baiting the man.  The year in prison had distilled Phillip’s emotions so well, that letting any comment fall from his lips seemed sacrilegious in nature.

Flipping onto his side, Phillip let his left arm drop to the floor beside the lopsided bed.  His hand delved into the black bag he had been given at his release which held his possessions.  Tugging a cheesy cardboard box into his grasp, Phillip tightened his grip and lifted it up onto the bed.  With a quick motion Phillip had tossed the lid off and let his fingers play through the sheaves of folded paper.  There were dozens of stacks, all misshapen and ragged.  Some were uniform and neat, a clear sign that Phillip had come into a bit of luck and managed to trade someone for a stack of paper.

They were letters, mostly, that were never sent.  Some were vague musings, verbal sketches, dreams penned so they wouldn’t be forgotten.  But every single piece of paper, scrap or otherwise, had a single thing in common: Kate.

Picking up one of the bundles, Philip slid the cloth binding it free and turned the piece of paper upright.

_She smiled at me. And god if she isn’t more beautiful than an angel.  She had smudges of charcoal on her cheek, and when she touched me her hands were so tiny.  So fragile against my chest.  I woke up with gooseflesh where she touched me.  It was a dream, she was a dream. 7/14_

            Philip smiled faintly, remember the morning, one of them, he had woken up body simultaneously on fire and frozen at the thought of Kate’s gentle fingertips playing along his skin.  His body always seemed to have a visceral reaction to even the thought of Kate.  The more time he spent ruminating on his attraction to the young woman, the less and less sense it made. 

Phillip had at first assumed his attraction was rooted in his unfulfilled feelings for Jean, but the more he considered it the less he thought it possible.  Kate was nothing like Jean.  Kate was terribly bright, sweet, calm, and almost shy.  Jean had always been average in school; she was nice enough to her friends, boisterous, and always the center of attention.  Rachel was the daughter who took after Jean, the first time he met her it was like falling back in time.

With the most obvious cause of his attraction entirely rejected, the letters and notes became part of his curious introspection.  Every word revealed a new aspect of his obsession.  While he had always appreciated beautiful women with soft curves, Phillip found himself with bizarrely new kinks.  He had become fixated on the vivid shades of Kate’s hair, the shifting blue-green clearness of her eyes, her petite stature, the smattering of freckles, the bow of her lips, the paleness of her skin, the roundness of her hips. 

Phillip had never really seen women so intricately.  He had never had dreams about a woman merely tucked under his arm, her face tucked against his chest, the top of her head not even reaching his shoulder.  He had tried to deflect the surging emotions; he had tried to imagine someone else, anyone else.  But his mind and body always seemed to betray him, Kate always floated into his head.

Rolling onto his back, papers clutched against his chest, Phillip twisted as he tried to get comfortable.  He had spent a year thinking about Kate Jensen, everyday without fail.  There was no way in hell that Phillip was going to sit back now that he was out of prison and let her drift out of his grasp.

Gazing up at the night sky, Phillip chewed the inside of his cheek.  He would have to go straight, or as straight as he could.  Kate deserved better than having to look over her shoulder, she deserved the universe on a string.  She didn’t need an ex-con laying trouble at her feet.  She deserved someone much better than Phillip, but he was a selfish man.

If he were a good man, Phillip would leave Walpole and Kate alone.  That was certainly something Phillip hadn’t been accused of being since he was a teenager, since before he had been run out of town by Jean Rogers and the whole damn town.  Even though Phillip wasn’t a good man, Kate made him _want_ to be a better man.

So Phillip was resolved to keep the job he had barely gotten with Bartow Paving, save enough money to actually get a place of his own, and generally prove everyone wrong about him.  It was easy enough to promise, hell he had made a million promises before and broken nearly all of them. 

Blinking tiredly, the large man winced at the slight twinge in his side, his stab-wound still infected.  The irony of his situation wasn’t lost Phillip.  Phillip was determined to stay in Walpole and convince Kate, the daughter of the woman who had run him out of the same town, to love him back.    That family had spelled nothing but trouble for Phillip, but Kate, Kate was something different.

Kate was everything Phillip had lost over the years.  Kate was the one thing he hadn’t destroyed.  Kate with her silky waves of golden copper hair, slender limbs, and milky skin.  Kate who made him toss and turn at night, sleepless.  Kate who made him itch and writhe in his own skin.

Phillip wasn’t quite sure how he was going to do it, but he was determined.  Plans tended to go to shit for Phillip, but his instincts had a way of keeping him out of the deep-end of most trouble.  One thing the dark skinned man knew for sure was that he wasn’t going to rest until Kate was tucked against his side, his hand settled on the curve of her hip, and he could feel every beat of her heart against his skin as if they were his own. 

Phillip Kopus was a man possessed by a single conversation, a few stolen glances, and a year’s contemplation, and as he shifted on the bed, wavering in the limbo between the waking world and dreams, he smiled.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I am so pleased people seem to be open and enjoying this pairing. In the next chapter we should see Kate, possibly including some Kate & Phillip interactions. I’ve got some cute ideas mulling on the backburner. Please leave a review, let me know what you enjoyed, what you would like to see more of, even just a brief comment means the world.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own The Red Road.  
> A/N: This is semi-AU of S2 (mostly because only one episode has aired). Phillip did not cause trouble with the guys at the paving company, and Mac has not been murdered.

 

            Grumbling under his breath, Phillip loaded the bed of his truck with the lumber, shingles, boxes of nails, and a few heavy locks.  Phillip had gotten an early morning wake-up call from his mother informing him that she had talked to Mac, and he could stay in the house if he fixed it up and paid a little rent.  It was more than Phillip had ever anticipated from Mac, in fact all Phillip expected from Mac was a sneer.

            Dropping the last stack of supplies into the back of the truck, Phillip’s brows drew together slightly as the bright sunlight of early morning spring seemed to evaporate.  Phillip tipped his dark head skyward, appraising the heavens as the sun was blocked from view by dark clouds.  Shaking his head in annoyance, Phillip hurriedly covered the supplies with one of the myriad of tarps Marie had shoved into his arms this morning. 

            Phillip’s mother was something else.  She ran hot and cold faster than the weather changed in the mountains.  After standing awkwardly in the door of the house that wasn’t really his, and learning his mother had interceded on his behalf with Mac, Phillip had been practically ordered to put tarps up over the holes, because if he put it off he would regret it.  Humoring his mother, Phillip had climbed onto the roof and hammered the blue tarps over the holes in the roof.  Of course he hadn’t done it with a smile.  He had done it with a long suffering sigh that was aimed to needle Marie, irritating her like a good son should. 

            Supplies secured, Phillip slid inside the cab of the old truck and set off just as the first fat drops of rain fell on the windshield, warping Phillip’s view of the world outside.  It was a fairly quiet Saturday in Walpole, Phillip acknowledged.  Most of the tourists already ensconced in the mountain, safe in their tents from the storm that was coming.  The locals had never been terribly vigorous.  Walpole was a slow sort of town, there wasn’t much to do in the town, and most people spent the weekends at home with their families.

            The utter stillness of the town is what made the subtle against one of the gas-station quick stops stand out to Phillip.  The small figure standing under the tiny awning shifted, Phillip watched the rain-blurred figure.  A jolt shot through his body as the water was swiped away by the wipers and the figure came into focus: a shock of coppery red hair and a very familiar frowning face. 

            Blindly, Phillip wrenched the steering wheel around, clipping a curb, and maneuvering the old vehicle into the gas station.  Not bothering to turn the engine off, Phillip barely managed to shift the truck into park before he stepped out into the rising deluge of rain.  Running on instinct, Phillip jogged around the truck and towards the figure stopping inches from her, only barely registering the astonishment that flashed behind blue-green eyes.

            “Get in the truck,” Phillip’s voice came out as a dull roar, an order that the storm was quickly drowning out.  The girl didn’t move, rooted to the spot.  Towering over her, body curved, Phillip was struck by how easy it would be to pull her into his arms.

 “Get in the truck, Kate,” Phillip repeated, settling a soaked arm around her shoulders and using a hand between her shoulders to urge Kate towards the truck.

            Her stance gave under the weight of his gaze and hand, she sprinted forward, Phillip at her heels.  In a flurry of oddly coordinated movements Phillip had managed to fling the passenger door open and half-lift Kate up onto the seat before slamming the door once she was safely inside.  Panting, Phillip reached the other side of the car and slipped inside, jerking the door shut, the sharp thud silencing most of the deafening roar outside.

            Safe from the downpour, Kate and Phillip’s heavy breaths caused a fog to grow on the windows, further blocking out the world.  Sliding the soaked hood from her head, Kate tugged at the sweatshirt she wore.  It was sodden, making her shiver sharply.  Kate nearly jumped as a large hand reached forward and began to fiddle with the dials, kicking the heater on.  As the adrenaline began to bleed out of her system, Kate realized that she had effectively trapped herself in a situation that left her feeling entirely unbalanced. 

            If Kate had learned anything from the past year’s events, it was that timidity with _this_ man was pointless.  Bracing herself, Kate turned silently to look at the hulking man who was looking determinedly out the windshield, squinting as the storm pitched and screamed. 

“Hi,” her voice was soft, just above a whisper, but it was void of fear.

            Hazel eyes whipped towards her, locking onto her, “Kate.”  The husky rumble of his voice made her name sound like a guttural plea.

            “Hi,” Kate repeated, feeling her cheeks warm sharply.

            The laughter that bubbled up and out of Phillip was hysterical; it was low and shook his whole body.  Running his hands through his long hair, Phillip shifted in his seat, unwittingly bringing himself closer to Kate.  Her soft laughter joined his, the utter improbability of the situation making reality slip away momentarily. 

            Slowly the frenetic laughter faded, though an odd tinkle of laughter or chuckle permeated the warm cab for a few moments later. 

            “Ugh,” Phillip groaned, head lolling back against the headrest, “Hi, Kate.”

            Kate curled her legs up and sat on them, attempting to keep the chill at bay.  Her lower lip tucked between her teeth as she considered what she wanted to say to him.  At last, Kate sighed, “I heard you were back.”         

            To Kate it sounded stupid, it was a stupid comment.  What did he care what she had heard.  _But_ Kate had needed to say something.  To have the upper-hand in this conversation.  Phillip had dominated the last conversation they shared, the only conversation they had shared.  Phillip had walked into her life, and spoken to her like...she didn’t even know.  But he had looked at her, really looked at her, instead of through her like most people did.  Everything had changed after that.  Everyday life wasn’t the same.

            “Yer, dad,” Phillip questioned softly, tilting his head to watch Kate.

            Her head shook slightly as his voice drew her from her thoughts, “No.  He hasn’t talked about you at all.”  In truth, the bond Kate and Harold Jensen once shared hadn’t been the same since Phillip had walked into her life.  One hand tugged at water-logged red-brown hair, “The guys at the station were talking about it.”

            His head rose, eyes darkening, “What were you doing at the station?”  Phillip’s body thrummed with anxiety, he had no love for the cops of Walpole, they weren’t the smartest, kindest, or most honest of men, and he certainly didn’t trust them. 

            “Sometimes my dad forgets his lunch, I drop it off for him,” Kate answered, voice hesitant.

            Lifting one arm, Phillip ghosted his index finger along the curve of Kate’s jaw.  Her skin was silky and slick under his skin.  Throat tightening, Phillip watched Kate carefully, waiting for her to flinch away or shudder in disgust.  A brief shot of euphoria flooded Phillip’s brain Kate did nothing, ignoring him.  Feeling brave, boosted by his small victory, Phillip laid his hand against Kate’s neck, large hand almost cupping her cheek.  This was sin.  She fit against him snugly, her pulse tripping against his fingers.  Phillip couldn’t help but groan at how tiny she was, how small Kate looked huddled in wet clothes and curled in a ball.  Kate’s eyes fluttered closed as Phillip’s strong thumb stroked along her cheekbone. 

            “Sweet Girl,” Phillip mumbled as his hands brushed against the clammy skin.  He drew back, the moment of suspended reality shattered, “You’re frozen.  Take your sweatshirt off.”

            Kate’s eyes opened wide at the order even as his hand fell away.  She hesitated but began to shrug out of the garment.  It was common sense, being in wet clothes wouldn’t do her any good.  Focused on her task, Kate never noticed how dark Phillip’s eyes grew.  The gnawing emptiness filled his gut as he watched her drag the heavy fabric up and keep her camisole down.  His tongue flickered out to swipe at his dry lips, fingers twitching as he forced himself to remain still. 

            Phillip wanted nothing more than to reach across the chasm between them and skim his fingers up her sides, helping her pull the material up.  Possibly grazing soft, warm skin as he helped.  Phillip gritted his teeth against the images, the phantom sensations.  Instinct demanded that Phillip breach the twelve-inch distance and fill his hands with her, taste her, breathe her.  Phillip defied his instinct, ignoring his trembling hands and tightening muscles.  He refused to cross the invisible line he had already toed so well.

            When the sweatshirt had been dropped to the floorboards, Kate bit her lip and peered out the window.  It was still pouring, the wind bending the trees sharply.

            “We should go,” Kate turned back to face Phillip.

            It was obvious to Phillip what she meant.  It would be pretty bad if anyone to find them sitting alone in his truck.  Harold would blow a gasket and then kill him.  Phillip didn’t question Kate’s easy presence as he slid the truck into gear and gave it a little gas.  He had never been one to look a gift horse in the mouth, and even if Phillip was curious about how at ease Kate was, he wouldn’t verbalize it.  Phillip was terrified that he would break whatever tenuous peace was stretched between him and Kate.  Pulling out of the gas-station, Phillip set his mind to strengthening that bond.

 

* * *

 

 

            He glanced at her out of the corner of his eye, she sat comfortably, face relaxed as he drove.  Phillip was crowing on the inside, his body warming with pleasure and pride.  There were no logical reasons for Kate to be sitting beside him as if it was normal.  If he had been thinking clearly as he ushered her into his truck, Phillip would have expected her to lash out at him, run away from him instead of obey him.  The cab was quiet except for the tinny sound of rain on the roof as they drove.  Kate’s soft honey scent infused the air, drawing Phillip back to the first time he had been caught by her sweetness.

 

* * *

 

_Phillip groaned and scrubbed his palms over his face before looking up at the girl.  “It’s okay,” he told her again, “I’m not going to hurt you.”_

_The slender redhead nodded slightly, body still rigid._

_“Please,” Phillip breathed out, “sit, I promise I won’t hurt you.”_

_He watched her, every twitch of every muscle, every twist, and every inch of skin slipping and sliding beneath fabric.  Slowly Kate Jensen felt her way to a footstool, settling stiffly onto it._

_“I’m Phillip,” he told her, peering at her from beneath hooded eyes._

_“Kate,” she mumbled keeping his gaze._

_His lips twitched upward, smiling, “I know.”  Kate didn’t speak, waiting like a rabbit ready to bolt at any sudden movement.  Phillip’s smile faded into a frown, “Do you know why I’m here?”_

_A shake of her head had her curls bouncing softly, drawing Phillip’s eyes to the gentle curve of her neck, graceful in every way._

_“Your father did a very stupid thing,” Phillip told her slowly, “he betrayed my trust, even when I was trying to help him.”_

_“With what,” the quiet question had Phillip biting his lip in excitement._

_As he leaned back, Phillip toyed with the drawing again, “I’m a bad man, Kate.  Does that scare you?”  Phillip didn’t give her a chance to respond, powering on, “’course your folks aren’t much better now.  Did you know they blamed me for Brian’s death, drove me out of town?  Even though I was innocent?  Everything I could have been…they_ took _from me.”_

_Phillip rocketed to his feet, taking one great step forward so he stood before Kate.  Raking his hands through his hair, Phillip sank into a squat before the young woman, gazing into her light eyes.  He gave a half-smile as he inhaled, Phillip’s cheek ticked upwards as a soft sweetness filled his lungs.  Honey, fresh honey.  Sweet and soft, and slightly flowery._

_“Kate,” her name was a breath that fanned over her face, warm and spicy, “Oh, Katie.”_

_The girl in question shied away from his gaze, tucking her chin into her chest._

_A strong hand slipped beneath her chin, softly lifting her face towards his.  He sank to his knees; absently Phillip noted he had never been brought to his knees by a mere look from a woman.  But in that moment, Phillip found himself kneeling before Kate Jensen as though it was the most natural thing in the world.  And at her feet, holding her gaze, Phillip let his sins spill from his lips, telling her the brutal truths of his life._

_With every word, every sin he whispered, Phillip watched Kate’s wide eyes, the slight quiver of her soft pink lower lip.  She never ripped her chin from his grip, never cursed him to hell, never kicked out at him.  He could feel the slight tremors that rocked her body, and he wanted to stop, wanted to spare her the knowledge of all he had done, but Phillip couldn’t seem to stem the flow of rough, half-hoarse words._

_When the whole sordid tale of the last weeks had been spilled into the air, Phillip waited.  Her soft voice broke his laconic state, “I’m sorry.”_

* * *

 

 

          Pulling onto the back roads, Phillip moved further into Lenape territory, away from the safety of the suburbs.  He kept one eye on Kate, waiting for any argument she might give.  None came, and after a distance, Phillip pulled over under a copse of sturdy trees that had seen generations come and go.  The canopy of thick branches and leaves shrouded them from the storm, the rain and wind dying down and leaving Kate and Phillip alone.

            Killing the engine the Lenape man twisted to face his obsession.   “Why,” he paused, unsure of how to continue, “Why did you get in the truck?”

            Eyes that were more green than blue in that moment swept across his face before Kate’s soft voice answered him as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.  “Because you asked.”

            A snort of sardonic laughter tore from Phillip.   “I didn’t ask you,” his head shook in disbelief, droplets of water flying from the long strands of his hair, “I told you to.”

            Kate’s mouth dropped open to answer but she paused, tongue sliding along perfectly pink lips.  “Would you have made me?”

            “Maybe,” came the gruff answer.

            Lips curled upward, Kate shook her head, as she stared up at him, “You wouldn’t have hurt me.”

            “I could.”

            “You haven’t,” Kate told him firmly as she reached one hand over to cover his hand as it lay against his leg.

            “With everything you know,” Phillip set his jaw, “you should know better than to trust me.”

            The tension snapped as Kate shrugged, a broad smile pulling at her face, “Maybe I can see the forest for the trees.”

            It was an offhand comment, jokingly tossed out to lighten the mood.  There was, however, something distinctly uncomfortable about Kate’s words.

            Hand drawing back, Kate stretched as the heat of the trunk began to warm her, drying her skin.  As Kate shifted, Phillip let himself relax.

            “It wasn’t supposed to rain,” Kate frowned as she craned her neck so she could look up at the sky outside.  “I checked the weather report.”

            “Mother Nature doesn’t like to be predictable,” Phillip told her.  “At least that’s what my mom says.”

             A smile crept along Kate’s pink lips, “Sounds like a smart woman.”

            “You’d like her,” was the short reply.  Another thought got stuck in Phillip’s throat.  He felt like he was balancing on the head of a needle.  Phillip had never been one to watch his mouth, but now he was scared shitless of what might come out if he wasn’t careful.  Hell, he had already crossed too many lines, let too much slip.

            Kate shifted, bending forward, fingers tugging at the laces of a pair of hiking boots.  With a soft sigh, Kate toed her shoes off.  Phillip’s scarred brow lifted in interest.  Kate wasn’t a hiker.  He had gathered that from their last meeting.  A fleeting panic raced through Phillip’s mind.  It had been a year.  The last time he had seen Kate was a year before.  How much had changed, was she still the same sweet girl that had met his gaze and been stubborn enough not to scream or run.

 

* * *

 

 

            They sat in near silence as the rain lessened, a few short, trivial exchanges passed between them.  They never strayed from polite conversation, grocery store small talk that meant too little to care.  But they both cared.

            When the rain became a drizzle, Phillip backed the truck back onto the path and headed towards the Jensen house.  They both acted as though it was natural for him to be driving Kate home. 

            When the silence became too much and the distance to their parting grew too short, Phillip guided the truck to the side of the road.  The Jensen house only a block away. 

Before Kate could open the door Phillip spoke, his voice unguarded, soft, “What were you doing out so early on a Saturday?”

            Popping the door open Kate slipped out of the truck and turned to face the man who had been staring at her for most of the morning.  “I wanted to see the mountain up close before I couldn’t anymore.”

            The answer was so simple and sweet that Phillip couldn’t help but smile, teeth glinting against tanned skin and raven hair.  “Kate,” he leaned across the cab toward her, “any day you want, I’ll take you up there.”

            She doesn’t speak.  She smiles instead.  A smile that lit up her whole face, transforming her from pretty to stunning.  Eyes crinkled in glee, Kate bit her lip to hide her smile as she closed the door and dodged across the road, never looking back.

 

* * *

 

 

            It wasn’t until Phillip had pulled into “his” driveway that he noticed the abandoned sweatshirt on the floor of his truck.  _Kate’s._   He scooped it up, and though the fabric was still damp the smell of honey caught Phillip’s attention a faint smile crossing his face.

        

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N:  Thank you so much to those who took the time to review this.  I spent a few days away from this chapter and had to come back because in my first draft things escalated a little too quickly.  I’m pretty happy with this progression.  Let me know what you think!  Ta.

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: The last episode of the first season was very striking, I think it illuminated a great deal of underlying character traits and issues. I re-watched the episode two or three times and couldn't get my curiosity about what else Phillip said to Kate out of my head. Her reaction to her father, and Phillip's goading later in the episode intimated that there was something else. After than I went back and re-watched every scene with Kate and began a little analysis of her character. In the end I was left with a paring with I have deemed Phate, and though I know it may weird some people out, my goal is to explore why they are matched quite well. Please let me know what you think.


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